


The Hobbit Queen: The Shawl

by Aerlinniel722



Series: The Hobbit Queen [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Angst and Humor, Battle of Five Armies - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dwarf & Hobbit Cultural Differences, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarf Gender Concepts, Everybody Lives, F/M, Female Bilbo Baggins, Female Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Fluff and Humor, Hobbit Culture & Customs, Hobbits, M/M, Minor Dwalin/Ori, Overprotective Dwarves, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-25 20:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19753045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aerlinniel722/pseuds/Aerlinniel722
Summary: Third in a few one-shots/short stories that I have written about how Billa Baggins adjusts to life post-quest and the struggles that the Company of Thorin Oakenshield face as they try to understand Hobbit customs (and teach Dwarrow traditions).Several months after "On Courses," Billa and Thorin are settling into married life—though it is not without its ups and downs with their busy schedules. Billa is also about to realize her education in terms of Dwarrow culture is quite lacking when it comes to one topic: children. When a Dwarrowdam is pregnant, she always wears a shawl with a specific pattern and symbol on it to make sure others know she is pregnant. Moreover, expecting Dwarrowdams are worshipped—Dwarrow will do anything for them and are even more overprotective due to low birth rates. We all know; however that children are far from rare in the Shire—and a shawl is a shawl, isn't it?





	1. "Hopelessly Devoted to You"

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, a multi-chapter post, though it is still a (very) short story for me :) Another prompt from my wonderful friend. I've finally had time to work on editing this little thing so, happy reading! As always, I'd love to hear from you if you have other things you'd like to see and hoping to post a few Bilbo/Thorin one-shots soon to keep myself amused as I keep slogging through my "Raven" edit! :)

“Bebother and confusticate Dwarrow kings!” Billa cursed. 

Thorin was late—again. _Perhaps_ , she thought viciously; _he’s gotten lost again._ According to her husband, his stone sense meant that he could never be lost inside of his kingdom. However, his routinely late arrivals when she, Balin, or Dwalin left him to make his own way to various meetings made her suspect that he might have been embellishing that particular talent. Billa glanced at the door again—willing it to open. It didn’t. 

Billa sighed in defeat and returned her attention to her nervous crocheting. It was too late, anyway, for him to merely have gotten lost, even with his dismal sense of direction. Plus, they’d lived in these rooms long enough that he really ought to be able to get back and forth from his office without getting lost. 

Billa used to spend many a sleepless night crocheting. Recently, she hadn’t had the time—Thorin would return to their chambers, distract her with this or that, and she’d eventually succumb to sleep wrapped in his protective grasp. At least, that had been the way of it. As of late though, a new batch of Dwarrow had arrived, and Billa had found herself left alone night after night. 

Dinner had been a last resort of sorts. Thorin always joined her on Tuesday evenings—always. It was their little tradition since the Battle of Five Armies. It was their chance to be Thorin and Billa without all the pressures of rebuilding Erebor. Or, it had been, until tonight. Billa glanced at the table filled with uneaten food. It had been a feast to be proud of, even by hobbit standards—two hours ago. Billa let out a frustrated growl and forced her attention back to her crocheting. She’d always been quite good at crochet. Before the quest, she’d go so far as to say she was proud of her skills. Then, she’d dared to “go on an adventure.” 

Billa’s fingers flew automatically across the lengths of yarn. She barely had to pay attention to the stitches, at least not for something so simple. Unfortunately, this blanket would come together with or without her notice. Given Thorin’s unexpected absence, she remained stubbornly distracted; wondering where her husband was and what had kept him. _It’s not as though I spend my days crocheting,_ she tried to comfort herself, but all the same, she continued to glower at the door—as if it had personally offended her. 

As the Consort of the King Under the Mountain, Billa faced the never-ending task of overseeing housing, food, and care for all of the Dwarrow returning to their mountain home. Although she had not initially thought much of the task, likening it to the many social committees in Hobbiton, Balin had explained to Billa that it was actually a most-respectable task because it fell to her to allot the crown’s coin to various endeavours. Seeing how seriously the Dwarrow took their wealth, Billa was beginning to understand the true respect they held for their Dwarrowdams who were almost always in charge of financial matters. 

Billa forced herself to take a deep calming breath and roll her tense shoulders—attempting to ease the tension. It might be disappointing that Thorin had forgotten their date night, but it was hardly his fault. As King Under the Mountain, he had to oversee the restoration of the kingdom both in terms of construction and defense and was spending many hours going over new political treaties to strengthen their tenuous alliances. That particular committee, Billa knew from experience, spent hours placating and preventing future conflict. Thus, although Billa barely had the chance to attend to the precious hair on her feet, more often than not, Thorin came to bed after Billa and was long gone before she woke.

Once more, Billa tried her best to focus on her crocheting, but once more, her mind wandered. Before the Company’s arrival at Bag End, she’d taken to testing new and increasingly elaborate patterns on doilies. Now, she smiled to herself, remembering how confused Bofur had been over those same doilies. _Dear Bofur_ , she missed their late-night talks during the quest. After all, he had been her first friend. 

These days, she barely saw any of the Company save for during official visits. Although they had been close before, as Erebor’s population grew, so too did their various tasks and meals were no longer taken together. Losing her friends had been a hard blow for Billa. She missed them and, even though the quarters that Thorin had painstakingly designed as her last courting gift, were beautiful and homely, Billa still felt lost alone in them. 

Billa glanced longingly at the clock for the umpteenth time. A measly four minutes had passed. She turned back to her to crochet. It _was_ a Tuesday night—she glanced at the calendar on the wall to confirm. She’d insisted on its installation, always worried that she would forget an engagement. Even back in the Shire, she had always needed her date book. That was, after all, how the whole mess with the Dwarrow had begun. She’d forgotten to write down that careless invitation to Gandalf. 

According to her clearly-marked calendar; however, the date was indeed Tuesday. Billa had known it—had looked forward to this Tuesday in particular. _Maybe, Thorin just forgot,_ she lamented—trying to quell the mixture of disappointment and concern that rose in overwhelming force in her chest. _Forgot,_ even the idea of it made her throat tighten. Was it really so much better for him to have forgotten about her? Did she want that? On every other Tuesday, Thorin had given up his work in time for them to share their dinner. They’d sit and converse about the week, and enjoy each other’s uninhibited company. Tonight’s dinner sat untouched on the table. 

_Maybe something happened, maybe there's been an accident or an attack or some awful news from the West,_ once more, Billa lost control of her fears, her attention straying down forbidden paths. However, it wouldn't be the first time that there had been emergencies. There had been tunnel collapses and even a minor orc attack that some remnant of Azog's army had orchestrated. Maybe, one of those dreadful things had happened again, and that was why Thorin had missed their meal. Billa looked to the door again.

She had had no appetite—not without Thorin. Her gaze roamed over the table. Each dish had been carefully prepared. She’d rushed through her work all day to be able to come home early and then she’d made this special dinner, hoping to tell Thorin her news. Billa allowed herself one long over-dramatic sigh as her restlessness and worry spiked. Standing and leaving the half-made blanket behind her, she began pacing their living room. 

It was past midnight. As of late Thorin had taken to working late, forgetting the time as he toiled through the mountains of paperwork. Billa tried to console herself with that likelihood, but it was a cold comfort at best. As disappointing as it was, having him forget their meal was better than him being in trouble or something happening in the Mountain. _And, if some had happened, someone would have alerted me, I'd be part of our official response,_ Billa reassured herself—hoping that it was true. He was working terribly hard too, seeing over the massive project of interring the dead while restoring the Kingdom to its former glory and fighting with Dale and Mirkwood for trading rights and treaties. Privately, Billa also suspected he was working harder to prove that he could be a good king—that the Gold Sickness truly was over. 

Billa’s strides gradually slowed and then she stifled a yawn. Recently, she had been more tired than usual. She glanced once more towards the door, wondering if it might not be better to go down and seek out Thorin. Abruptly, she decided against it. He would only feel even worse if she pulled him away. Whatever was keeping him had to be important and, her news could keep.

Billa sat down once more, resuming her crocheting, with one eye on the door. It was a full half an hour before the door opened, and her husband stumbled in. Thorin rubbed wearily at his eyes, freezing as he caught sight of Billa. She had only just started back to full wakefulness when the door opened, and their exhausted gazes met.

“You’re up late,” he commented before his tired gaze took in the loaded table. Billa remained silent while Thorin cursed under his breath in Khuzdul. Mentally, Billa reminded herself to pester Ori again about teaching her the secret language. She was Thorin’s lawfully wedded wife according to both Dwarrow and hobbit traditions so surely someone could teach her Khuzdul.

“Billa,” he croaked in apology.

“It’s alright,” she offered him a smile, feeling her previous anger melt away as she sensed his genuine guilt. It was almost strange, but since their marriage rituals when they were together, at times she could almost sense him; his presence and, when they were particularly strong, his emotions. It was like they truly were One. 

“Did you eat, _Ghivashel_? I can-” Thorin worried, and Billa rose, abandoning her crochet.

“I’m tired,” she asserted, and he nodded; looking no less miserable. 

She took his hand, and they abandoned her ruined meal. 

"Maybe, we could try again tomorrow?" she suggested as they changed.

"I have a Council dinner," Thorin replied, "I could cancel-" he offered immediately, and she shot him a knowing look. Thorin hated the Council dinners, and always looked for an excuse to get out of them. If he did, however, Balin would be none-too-happy, and they would pay for it for weeks as their nobles passive aggressively protested their boycott.

"You know you can't skip that, and anyway, I'm not in a rush." Billa reproached. "I have something I want to talk to you about, but I promise, Thorin, it will keep until you're less busy." she insisted when he raised an eyebrow in question.

"Now you have me curious, you can't just tell me?" Thorin asked, and Billa laughed.

"No, I don't think I will." she decided, crawling into their bed. He harrumphed behind her, but crawled in shortly thereafter, letting the matter rest.

Almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, he began snoring, and Billa was curled inside his warm protective embrace, smiling as she inhaled his scent. It would have been a wonderful meal, and a good time to tell him, but like she'd said earlier, the news would keep. What mattered was that he was here now. She could feel him physically and through their bond. He had been sorry, he was under a lot of stress, and as long as this didn't become a habit, she had been more worried than annoyed. Her earlier concerns melting away and Billa resolved to tell him in the morning. Decision made, she felt herself relax as Thorin’s steady snores lulled her into a peaceful sleep.


	2. "Part of Your World"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billa goes on a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos and comments, so glad you're enjoying this fic! A huge thanks to my readers and my friend for inspiring me :) Happy reading, and I love hearing from you.

In the morning, Billa woke to an empty bed. The spot that Thorin had occupied was cold and empty. She sighed and knew that her news would wait another day. Although a little disappointed, she had to admit she wasn’t all that surprised to be alone—Thorin often began his work before dawn. Billa stretched, she had slept relatively well considering the late night and the fact that it was barely past seven now. 

With a yawn, she contemplated her first breakfast options. The servants would have taken away the uneaten food from last night, so she didn’t have to clean, but she’d emptied the pantry in her little kitchen so she knew she’d have to either request a tray or go to the kitchens. Immediately, she knew which option she preferred. To feed the massive city, there were several kitchens, but the main dining hall had an enormous set of rooms that Bombur now managed. If she went down to them, then she knew he would give her something.

Suddenly, her stomach gave an altogether uncomfortable lurch. Billa threw the blankets back and B-lined for the attached commode. She barely made it in time. When she was finished, her stomach churned uncomfortably without any food to digest and, she realized, she was starving. Billa emerged and glanced surreptitiously around her quarters. Luckily, it seemed that no one else was around. She breathed a sigh of relief. She knew that the servants were discreet, but they did all live in one mountain, and Dwarrow could get terribly over excited about the strangest of things. Of course, it wasn't really that big of a deal or that unexpected, but she rather hoped that she'd be able to tell Thorin about their news before any rumours spread.

Billa's stomach let out a rather fearsome yowl of protest, and she sighed. Heading back into the bedchamber, she moved across to the walk-in closet. It was still mostly empty, but Dori was determined to make it less so. Every week she'd enter and find a new round of clothing. _Clothing_ , Billa reflected mournfully. As of yet, it wasn't too much of a problem, but she'd hate to let Dori's fabulous creations go to waste. Already a few of the very first pieces he’d made didn't fit. _It is a pity,_ Billa mourned, because all of the gowns were nothing short of amazing. Still, she was at least back to a healthy weight-range for hobbits. The Quest had stripped every ounce of fat from her, and she'd been alarmingly thin by the end of the Battle of Five Armies, her clothes hanging limply on her frame.

Feeling overwhelmed by her options, Billa quickly selected a Durin-blue dress. Blue had always been her favourite colour, even before she knew it was the official shade of the House of Durin. Especially since learning of her preference, Dori was only too happy to fill her closet with gowns of that particular shade. Once dressed, all of her hair appropriately brushed—the Dwarrow had been horrified to learn that the hair that matter was on her feet, not her head—Billa exited her rooms.

"Consort," the guards positioned outside her door greeted her.

"Good morning!" she replied cheerfully, though the greeting would always remind her of a certain wizard. She smiled wistfully as she continued on her way. Along her route, Dwarrow stopped and bowed to her, always murmuring “Consort” as they did.

She and Thorin still had to have a proper wedding ceremony, and she had yet to be crowned Queen Under the Mountain. Until then, she could only be recognized as Thorin's consort, not as the Queen, though her duties were mostly the same. The only change would be that once she was officially Queen, their people could bring her their petitions. On those Hearing Days, Billa would listen to all who had come to air their grievances and then Billa would have to decide upon each case. She wasn't particularly looking forward to that responsibility—she could barely make her own decisions after all.

* * *

Billa arrived in the kitchens quickly—at least compared to how long it had once taken her to make the very same journey. Between construction and her growing sense of direction inside of Erebor, she had reached the point where she could usually make her way around the Mountain in good time. The added benefit of being lost in her thoughts, as she had been that morning, meant that she didn't have to stare over the precipice as she traversed the various bridges and descended the many staircases to the kitchens. 

Before renovations started a few of the staircases had had railings, and she’d taken many a circuitous route to take those. However, to her consternation during the kingdom’s reconstruction, Thorin had ordered that they be removed to keep the clean geometrical style. Billa had nearly wept upon hearing that particular bit of news. Why Thorin thought it was a good idea to have no railings, she would never understand. In her mind, they looked perfectly in place, _so why did he have to declare them a nuisance?_

One of these days though, Billa was certain, that she'd fall over the edge. She was also sure that she would neither be the first nor the last. In her mere months of living there, she'd already seen more than one scroll or construction tool roll off the blasted edge, and it had only been through sheer dumb luck that the falling missiles hadn't struck anyone. If they had, _surely,_ she thought, _they would cause great injury, if not outright death._

_Yes_ , she decided, _I'll have to talk to Thorin again about railings._ _Just wait for there to be children around, then the danger will be even greater!_ Unbidden, the memory of hanging off the rocky pathway through the Misty Mountains appeared, and Billa shivered. That had been one of the most terrifying parts of the Quest, if not the most terrifying. She hated heights, and it was so easy to find oneself simply sailing over the edge. _No, no, definitely not—railing-less stairs and such simply won't do!_

* * *

"Billa!" Bombur's cheery greeting drew her from her morose thoughts, and she smiled. "Up and looking for first breakfast? I just took out a couple of hand-pies-" Billa found herself smiling at her friend as he led her effortlessly through the chaos of the royal kitchens. 

Since Thorin had given him the job, Bombur had yet to stop smiling. He truly was in his element. His great girth was a thing of beauty here, and with the space and supplies, his creations were nothing short of amazing. Billa eagerly helped herself to the breakfast spread at the back that was usually reserved for the staff. She could, of course, have dined in the main hall or been brought a tray, but this was what she truly craved. 

On the back table were all of the experimental creations that the chefs produced. Each chef had to provide food for the main dining hall, but there were enough cooks now that they all had at least a little time to explore. So, if it was well-received amongst their peers, then the dish could be introduced to the rest of Erebor’s growing population.

Billa generously helped herself to everything there. As usual, it was all delicious. If she had fewer responsibilities as the Consort, then she would have happily dedicated her days to the Royal Kitchens. As she surveyed the morning's crop, she found her fingers itching to hold a spatula or kneed a pad of dough. She had cooked last night, but the memory of the failed meal left a rather bitter taste in her mouth. She knew she'd simply try again, maybe next week, but it still brought a well of disappointment. 

Billa tucked herself into her first breakfast alone. Bombur had other things to oversee, not that she minded overmuch. She too had many matters to attend to, and she'd feel even worse for being a bother. Around her, the kitchen staff went about their various duties, ignoring her presence. She was happy that way. At first, they'd all stopped when she appeared and then, they'd all avoided her or bowed excessively. Finally, things were getting back to a more normal routine. They all knew that they could expect the Consort to visit the kitchens on a routine basis, and it wasn’t for an inspection or anything of that ilk.

If she ever dared to go to the Market; however, that was an entirely different matter. Then, all of the vendors did their best to sell her their wares, or worse, simply gave her their creations for the sheer honour of having her visit them. She couldn't refuse either for fear of offending them, and it was usually an altogether stressful outing. That was why she tried to avoid the market place except for once every fortnight when Dale sent a new round of merchants. Then even Thorin often appeared to welcome the newcomers. 

Billa finished her breakfast, causing Bombur to appear. He always did when she finished, eager to hear her opinion on the new recipes. It was one thing that hadn't changed since the Quest, and she liked being able to connect with at least one of her friends on a regular basis. She had particularly enjoyed a flat flour wrap grilled with cheese and some crushed, fried beans of some sort. It tasted exotic to her, but also pleasantly filling, and she enthused about it to Bombur, who promptly tried it himself and agreed. 

It was, apparently, the creation of a dwarf who had travelled extensively in Rhûn and even further south. There, such cuisine with beans, rice, and cheese were quite common. Billa regretted that the dwarf in question was occupied but vowed to return and speak with her at length about the cooking techniques. As it was, with a second wrap in one hand and an apple hand-pie clutched in the other, Billa took her leave—hoping that there would be more food like that to come. Certainly, the Mountain’s cuisine was only ever improving.

* * *

First breakfast complete, Billa took a detour on her way to her office past the library. She had other duties to attend to, but before she sequestered herself in her office, she wanted to speak to Ori about arranging lessons in Khuzdul. The scribe, she found hidden amongst the stacks. It had been hard to find him, but she could have sworn she’d heard movement in this secluded back corner of the stacks. When she had stumbled across him, he had jumped, nearly dropping the pile of papers that he had been rifling through. Billa frowned.

"Are you alright?" she asked, and he looked up at her with wide eyes. _His are slightly-flushed cheeks, and are his braids a little off kilter?_ Billa wondered. "You're not getting sick, are you?" It had been a particularly bad year for the flu and, given his appearance, she had to wonder—since something definitely didn't seem right.

"What sick? Me? No, why would you say that?" he asked in alarm.

"Never mind," Billa said with a smile, though she resolved to keep an eye on the young scribe. 

Ori was still trying to sort through the many tomes in the abandoned library. As of yet, not many scholars had arrived, and he had a tendency to overwork himself whenever Dori wasn't there to look in on him. Mentally, Billa made a note to mayhap mention her concerns to Dwalin. He was busy as the Captain of the Guard, but he did travel by the library on his way to and from the training fields and, as such, he might be able to look in on Ori on his way and ensure that the younger dwarf was properly looking after himself. 

Billa looked around the library, Ori had been making progress—he had constantly been working on his restoration though his efforts barely showed. Luckily, the books hadn't been overly damaged by fire, but they had long been forgotten and abandoned to the damage of dust and some dampness. Ori was now painstakingly re-transcribing many of the books. Whenever she could, Billa volunteered her time, but it was an arduous task, and she was often else-wise occupied.

Billa glanced over Ori once more. It was true, the flush in his cheeks was fading. She frowned, deciding to abandon the matter for now. Ori gave her another cheery and welcoming smile.

"What brought you to the library?" he asked.

"Well," Billa began. Ori at once made some excuse about needing a rest, leading her towards two armchairs by a lit fireplace. As she asked her question; however, Ori's face fell.

"I'm not sure that that would be possible," he said, sounding heartbroken.

"What do you mean?" Billa asked, frowning.

Ori hesitated, "Well, you're not a dwarf."

“But I am Thorin's lawfully wedded wife according to Dwarrow and hobbit traditions. I am his Consort, and I will be the Queen Under the Mountain," Billa frowned. "As my spouse, he could learn any of my family recipes because he's kin, but I still can't learn Khuzdul?" Billa despaired while Ori regarded her with wide eyes.

"If I could I would teach you, Billa! I trust you with our secret but-"

"-but if anyone else found out, then we would both be put to death for betraying the sacristy of your culture." Billa finished while Ori gave her a sheepish nod.

"I'm sorry," the scribe murmured abashed and embarrassed. "Maybe, you could talk to Balin and Thorin about it? I'm sure they could do something, and then I'd be happy to teach you!" he offered.

"It's not your fault," Billa felt the fight leave her. She gave Ori a smile since he was still looking rather nervously at her. It wasn't his fault, after all.

Billa just felt so isolated from Thorin. Thinking about his behaviour and the disastrous meal, she realized that he had been around even less recently. She had hoped that if she learned Khuzdul, it might help bring them closer together. Obviously, there were a lot of traditions she was still unaware of, but surely it was the little things that mattered, right?. 

Moreover, come the spring, many more caravans would arrive. Thorin's own sister, Dís, was to lead them. Then, the Mountain would be forced to support a full Dwarrow society complete with Dwarrow dams and families. Billa thought it would seem rather foolish if she still didn't understand their language and had hoped to avoid more cultural faux-pas. 

Thus far, there were few Dwarrow dams and, even fewer children in Erebor. For the most part, it was only warriors and miners who occupied the Mountain. Some merchants had come ahead of time to help support the Mountain, but there were not too many occasions for Billa to make cultural errors. By the time that those opportunities presented themselves, she hoped to be better educated. The winter was almost over, but the conditions had been too bad for further migration. Billa looked forward to the growth of their kingdom, though more and more frequently she hoped that their coming would signal a return of her husband to her.

"Billa?" Ori asked, his eyes wide, and she realized he had been speaking to her and she, very rudely, had been ignoring him. "Are you feeling alright?" the dwarf asked anxiously.

"Of course I am, just fine!" Billa insisted, rising and ignoring the way that the world spun. Surely, she was just tired and feeling a bit overwhelmed. The feeling was normal; after all, she still had so much to do.

"You don't look so fine," Ori insisted, and she focused back on him.

"It's nothing!" she insisted, but the words had barely left her mouth when she found the ground rushing up to meet her.

The last thing she heard was Ori's alarmed cry of, "Billa!" 


	3. "I Have a Dream"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billa's secret is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, giving kudos, and comments!! Happy Friday, and happy reading :)

Upon examining Billa, Oín immediately insisted that she be put on bed-rest. In fact, he was insisting quite a lot, to Billa's consternation. Apparently, when Ori had cried out, Dwalin had happened to be passing by the library and had somehow managed to hear Ori from outside in the hallway. Something about that didn’t add up in Billa’s mind, but she didn’t have a chance to ask about it. Actually, when she’d come to, she’d already been in the warrior's arms—as he ran frantically across railingless bridges and down steep sets of stairs to Oín's clinic. 

Since her arrival, it hadn't taken long for Thorin to burst in with Balin, Fíli, and Kíli trailing after him. The rest of the Company had followed shortly thereafter; crowding the room. Although Oín grumbled about needing space to work, he did not have the heart to kick any of them out. So, instead, all fourteen of them were crammed into the private chamber, which although designed for royalty, was not large enough for thirteen Dwarrow.

"I really am fine!" Billa tried to tell them for the umpteenth time. Oín merely glared at her while Thorin continued to regard her with unveiled worry.

"You’re not fine until I say you are fine!" Oín insisted. He had thus far threatened to keep her for the rest of the day and was currently doing a good job of convincing the rest of the Company that Billa ought to be on bed rest for the rest of the week. 

"Can't I at least return to my quarters, since nothing is immediately wrong?" Billa all but begged. She could only hope that once back she'd be at least left on her own to go back to her work, or that maybe Thorin would be able to stay with her for a bit.

"Well," Oín hedged, and Billa felt a wave of relief as she sensed him beginning to relent. Of course, she doubted that anything was wrong, perhaps just a bit of stress combined with her being tired. Certainly nothing worth wasting all of their time over—even if she was glad to be able to see them. It was also true that she had been quite hungry earlier so, perhaps, it was just from residual low-blood sugar.

"Is she alright, Oín?" Thorin insisted impatiently.

"It does seem like she might only need some rest, but I would like to finish my examination before I am certain." Oín insisted.

"But I am fine!" Billa protested. "I'm perfectly healthy, I probably just hungry and a bit tired!” she pleaded. Oín fixed her with a glare that she returned. She hated being made a fuss of, still, it seemed more and more evident that there was no getting out of this.

"Please, Ghivashel, can you just cooperate?" Thorin asked softly, taking her hand, and she turned to glare balefully at him. The pleading, nearly desperate look he returned, caused her protestation to die on her lips. Sighing in resignation, she nodded to Oín. He stepped forward, and the rest of the Dwarrow seemed to take a collective breath of relief as, save for Thorin, they took a step back to give him the needed space.

"Oh!" Oín exclaimed as his examination progressed down to Billa’s stomach and she glared a warning at the old healer as he looked at her. He nodded at her, though his eyes remained narrowed in what seemed to be a mixture of suspicion and reproach before he stepped back.

"Well, I suppose going back to your rooms might be alright," he agreed, beginning to smile in a tell-tale way that Billa didn't like.

"Why? What did you find?" Thorin growled.

"Aye, why're you looking like that?" Glóin glared suspiciously at his brother, but the healer seemed not to have heard him. It truly did seem as though Oín ‘s hearing was getting, if possible, even more selective.

Billa ignored them, eagerly pushing off the blanket that had been laid on top of her as she went to get out of the bed. Thorin cast an arm to stop her from standing while he glanced nervously back to Oín.

"Can she walk?" he asked with great concern, "is it safe?"

"She should be fine," Oín shrugged, and Billa beamed. "Though, it would be a good idea to keep a close eye on her." 

The smile slid from her face. Trust Oín to ruin her hopes. Billa sighed, the Dwarrow were protective enough already; all she wanted was to have some modicum of independence. 

* * *

They walked back to the royal wing together. All of them. She had all thirteen of them insisting that she take it slow on the stairs. In fact, at the base of each set Thorin tried to pick her up. It was only with the insistence that she rest after each staircase that she was allowed to do it herself. Halfway there, Billa almost spit out the news and had to bite her tongue to stop herself. She would tell all of the Company, but she wanted the chance to tell Thorin first. 

Finally, after what seemed to be hours later, and might have actually been about forty-five minutes, or more, they arrived. Oín insisted that only he and Thorin go into the rooms at first.

"We'll come get you in a minute," Billa insisted and then the door was shut on eleven disappointed faces. She sighed when the door closed and turned to face Thorin who was, as expected, frowning in worry.

"What is going on?" he demanded, looking between her and Oín.

"Lassie?" Oín prompted.

"I'm fine, Thorin, I promise, I just need to eat a bit more probably because," she hesitated for a moment, "well, becauseI'mpregnant." she blurted the end so quickly that it all came out as one word.

"What?" Thorin blinked in confusion.

"I'm pregnant," Billa repeated more slowly, and Thorin froze. "I mean, it's not really that surprising given how long we’ve been married, and it’s really not a big deal, I mean, it's still early too, and I really am fine-" Billa was babbling, unsure what to make of Thorin's silence.

"Pregnant?" he finally gasped. "You're carrying my child?" he whispered, and Billa nodded nervously.

"Yes," she agreed. "It's really-" she began again, but he cut her off, lifting her off of her feet and spinning her around. Almost as quickly, he set her gently back down with a look of horror.

"I didn’t mean-” he cried, “did that hurt her? Them?" he looked in panic to Oín.

"It's fine. I'm not about to break!" she insisted with a smile. 

"Oín, you've confirmed it?" Thorin looked to the old healer.

"When I was examining her," he nodded.

"Ghivashel," he murmured, stepping forward to press his forehead gently to hers, his blue eyes sparkling with sheer joy. 

"I was going to tell you," Billa began, feeling badly for the whole incident that had brought on the confession.

"Last night," Thorin startled back, his gaze filling with even more guilt.

"Yesh," Billa mumbled sheepishly, the word melding into a semi-coherent sound as she felt a blush rise in her cheeks. If only I had told him anyways, then we needn’t have gone through all this, she mourned. 

"I am sorry," Thorin sank to his knees, and Billa's eyes went wide in shock.

"Sorry?" she gaped frowning.

"I should never have been so busy, I have barely seen you, I haven't even noticed!" Thorin was almost blubbering over her while Billa could only stare at him with wide, confused eyes.

"It really isn't that big of a deal-" she tried again. They were the wrong words. Thorin stared at her, and even Oín began to bluster in protest.

"Not a big deal, Ghivashel?" Thorin gaped.

Billa sat on the bed listening to Thorin rant at her about just how rare pregnancies were until a sharp pounding on the door interrupted him. Apparently, they had exhausted the Company's patience. Billa nodded to Oín, and he went to go let the Company in. Thorin moved even closer to her, wrapping an arm around her as they faced their friends.

"Well?" Bofur demanded without preamble.

"What's happening?" Fíli insisted.

"You're not dying, are you?" Kíli's eyes went wide in horror. 

"I'm sorry! I should have caught you faster! I should have-" Ori babbled, wringing his tunic in his hands. 

Billa looked around the circle at her worried friends. They were so sweet in their concern, so protective and terribly concerned about her well-being. Before the quest, she'd had no one to care—if she had died no one would have found her for weeks inside of her smial! Now, she’d had a dizzy spell, and they were all gathered around her—worried that she had some mortal affliction. Billa paused, trying to get her emotions under control. It was a failed effort. The laughter bubbled out of her. The Dwarrow exchanged a very worried look.

"I thought you said she was alright-" Glóin turned to regard his brother. Oín frowned and lifted his ear trumpet to his ear.

"What?" he roared. Billa couldn’t help it—she laughed even harder.

"Billa!" Kíli pouted, and her laughter finally quieted.

"What's happening?" Bofur demanded in confusion.

"If she's dying, why would she be laughing?" Dwalin frowned.

"So she is dying?!" Kíli wailed.

“Kíli,” Thorin sighed, fixing his youngest nephew with a familiarly exasperated look.

“Sorry, Uncle,” the dwarf muttered.

“I really am fine, in perfect health,” Billa promised, unable to stop the smile that was spreading over her face as she caught Thorin’s gaze. She tugged on his hand, gently pulling him closer.

“We actually have news,” Thorin began.

“I knew it!” Dori gasped audibly, and Nori rolled his eyes at his elder brother. 

“What?” Bofur frowned.

“Shut yer gobs and let them tell us!” Dwalin roared impatiently, glaring at the rest of the Company who immediately turned to regard Billa with expectant expressions.

“We’re pregnant,” Billa beamed, and the room exploded. 

She pretended not to notice the exchange of coins. Trust the Dwarrow to bet on this. Still, she didn’t really mind. They pressed forward, congratulating her, demanding that Thorin take proper care of her. Dori was all but beside himself, already going off about the clothes he would make for her, interrupting himself only to give her suggestions of teas that would help with her morning sickness. It was all she could do to accept his offer to bring them by at once.

In the end, Thorin put a stop to the party, insisting that Billa needed her rest. In truth, Billa was somewhat disappointed to see them all go. To her small relief, Thorin stayed behind, sending Balin and Fíli to see to his duties for the day. She tried on multiple occasions to get up, but Thorin insisted on bringing everything to her. When she refused to sleep, he even crawled in bed with her, and she succumbed relatively quickly after that. It really was magical what snuggling with her dwarf could do.


	4. "Tradition"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billa gets a visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday, everyone! :) Thanks for the fantastic support, I hope you're enjoying the weekend!

Billa had expected a few days of coddling, but after that, it was just a pregnancy—it would continue for months, and she had other duties to attend to. Or, at least, she thought she had. In the morning, she woke to find that her duties had all been delegated. She had tried to go to work, but Thorin who, surprisingly, was still in bed with her, insisted that they had been taken care of. Billa didn't particularly like the sound of that, but when he said he would be remaining with her for the day she let her concerns go. It had been a long time since they'd spent any quality time together. 

They spent the morning eating and lounging by the fire. After lunch, however, Thorin was required to see to some matters of business. Billa had only just settled into her chair, picking up her crocheting once more when a polite knock sounded. She called for the guest to enter seeing as she was decently dressed and, the Ordeal, as Billa would later call it began. A dwarf covered from head-to-toe in jewelled robes, and other such finery entered. 

" _Amadel,_ " he bowed low, "you look positively radiant!" he exclaimed immediately. Billa frowned. "I am most honoured that you have selected me to make your shawl, but of course you'll know that it will be of the highest quality. I am, after all, the only weaver worth the task under the mountain," Billa fought a grimace. The dwarf's gaze fell on her crocheting; she'd been working on it on the side again. "Oh _Amadel,_ I promise, you will never need to strain yourself with such efforts again, in fact, you can dispose of this, and I promise I won't mention your skill-" Billa snatched her crocheting away from the dwarf as he reached for her work.

"That's my crochet, and I'll thank you for your compliments to my artistry, there is no finer crocheting in all of the Shire," Billa lied, feeling the need to defend her own skill, "Who are you and why are you invading my rooms?" she demanded,resenting the fact that Thorin had finally stepped out.

"Who am I?" the dwarf spluttered, and Billa felt a spark of satisfaction.

"Yes, your name, and why do you see fit to barge into my private quarters in such a rude manner while making demands and judging my work and skills?" Billa glared, and the dwarf continued to splutter.

"Herfríthur," he finally spit out. “I am Herfríthur. _Amadel,_ have you not heard of me?" he gawked ungainly at her.

"I have not had the _pleasure_ ," Billa said, stressing the word pleasure in sarcasm. Unfortunately, her intonation went unnoticed by the dwarf in question.

"Well, certainly, that explains much, I have been waiting for you to call on my services, _Amadel,_ you of all people should not have to compromise anything in your wardrobe and your garb has thus been far too simple for your greatness, after I have re-designed your wardrobe you will finally look like a queen instead of a pauper!" the dwarf beamed. Billa scowled.

"I don't believe I'll have need of your services," she told him, and the dwarf frowned.

"But, I was informed you were in need of a shawl," he frowned.

"I am perfectly fine without any of your creations, now, or ever. I have Dori to look after my wardrobe, with which I am content because he is my friend and he knows what I like." Billa glared outright. "Now, can you see yourself out Master Herfer, or need I call the guards?" If she derived any pleasure in seeing his own scowl from behind his elaborately braided and decorated beard at her atrocious mispronunciation of his name, she didn't let it show. _Really, how dare he come into my rooms and insult me?_ she fumed after he had hastily backed out of the room.

* * *

Billa angrily cast off the final stitch. Her blanket had become a shawl. It was chilly in the Mountain and, at the moment she didn't have the heart at the moment to finish the blanket. _Maybe,_ she pondered, _I can do better, and I want my baby to have the best blanket,_ Billa reasoned. She finished casting off and surveyed her work with a highly critical eye. She had a few loose stitches; perhaps she could have been more uniform or, maybe her pattern was slightly crooked? She could have tried adding more than one colour—Durin blue would have looked sharp intermingled with the traditional white. 

Billa had only just stopped fuming when the door burst open, and Thorin entered.

"Thorin!" she exclaimed, leaping to her feet, ready to tell him about her ordeal. Catching his pained expression, however, she froze in place. "What's wrong?" she asked, her eyes going wide. Was there an attack? Had something happened in one of the mines?

"Tell me that Master Herfríthur didn't come and visit you, and the rumours I'm hearing are false," he pleaded, and Billa's jaw dropped. " _Ghivashel,_ " he groaned, and her jaw clicked shut audibly.

"I don't care," she put her hands on her hips, glaring at Thorin, who had cast himself down in one of the two armchairs. "He was rude and condescending, and I am perfectly happy with Dori's choice of wardrobe and my own crocheting skills!" Billa fumed. "I don't even see what the big deal is anyways." 

"The big deal?" Thorin croaked, and Billa's tirade ground to a halt. Thorin never croaked. Never. She glanced at him and saw that he had his face in his hands. _Oh dear,_ she thought, _perhaps I was a bit hasty,_ she lamented. _Or at least, I should have pronounced his name right,_ but she knew it was too late to change any of that now. She stepped closer to place a placating hand on his shoulder, only to realize that his shoulders were shaking. He let out an odd wheezing sound as she regarded him cautiously.

"Are you laughing?" she narrowed her eyes. Her dwarf king didn't look up in time to read the danger.

" _Ghivashel,_ you have to understand-"

"You're laughing at me!" he finally looked up. "You are so infuriating, don't you know? Do you have any idea the trauma I went through with that-that dwarf!" Billa was fuming. Thorin's eyes went wide in alarm as he realized his peril.

"Billa," he tried to placate her.

"My father taught me to crochet, and he was known throughout the Shire for his talents! I won quite a few prizes myself for my doilies, blankets, and shawls and do you know what that Master," she sneered the title, "dared to call my work?" she continued on, propelled into her tirade and absolutely unaware of his indulgent look.

* * *

"Are you finished?" he asked when she had finally run out of steam. Billa admittedly took a moment to catch her breath before she deflated.

"Fine," she said with as much dignity as she could muster. “For now,” she couldn’t help but add.

"I didn't mean it as an attack, Ghivashel," Thorin scooted forward in his chair, gently catching her hands in his.

"Then what did you mean it as?" she would have sworn she wasn't pouting—at least she didn't think she was.

"Herfríthur is one of the most renowned tailors in all of the Seven Kingdoms, he came in the hopes of dressing the next Queen Under the Mountain, but I didn't want to upset you or Dori by mentioning it too quickly. He heard of your trip to the infirmary, however, and well, my knuckleheaded nephews can't stop grinning from ear-to-ear, and he put two and two together," Thorin explained.

"He's that smart?" Billa blurted before she could help herself. Thorin scowled pointedly, and she gave a little shrug. 

"How did you even hear about this whole mess?" she asked shrewdly, attempting to change the subject.

"He's been storming through the Mountain complaining to everyone who will listen." Thorin fumed, and Billa blinked in surprise at his frank reply. "I mean," he seemed to realize what he'd blurted out.

"You meant exactly what you implied," Billa crossed her arms over her still-flat belly and glowered. Thorin was annoyed because her behaviour didn't reflect well on the House of Durin.

"You couldn't have ended the interview any other way?" he asked, obviously striving to keep his patience.

"No," Billa replied, twitching her nose out of instinct. Thorin snorted softly, and she returned to scowling. It was a nervous habit, but he loved when she did it. Although she had done it all her life, a part of her still wished that her discomfort wasn't quite so visible. 

"I know you didn't mean to start a scandal, but it has become one and, anyway, we can't put off the announcement for much longer. It will be good morale to make the announcement before the spring. People are worried enough about the future prosperity of the Mountain as it is." Thorin sighed, and Billa nodded. 

Although she was not yet Queen, and hearing petitions, Billa was well aware of the tense, nervous excitement that filled the Mountain. Erebor had been the crowning jewel of all Dwarrowdom, but then it had become their greatest tragedy. Now, they had it back, but only just. Billa had been relatively well-received as Thorin’s One, but no one was entirely certain of Erebor’s ability to prosper. Especially if having a child was truly as rare as Thorin and the Company had implied, Billa figured the announcement ought to help ease tensions.

"Dori!" Billa gasped. Thinking of how worried people were suddenly reminding her that Herfríthur was still spreading rumours about how atrocious her wardrobe was. 

"Billa?" Thorin protested in confusion.

"I have to assure him that I do love my wardrobe! If Herfríthur really is so upset, then Dori must have heard him, but I don’t want him to listen to any of the vitriol that Herfríthur is spewing!" Billa cast about for her cloak, while Thorin groaned and buried his face in his hands once more. 

In her desperate rush, her gaze fell on the shawl she'd made. _I can get Dori's opinion on it;_ she resolved as she cast it around her shoulders. "I'll be right back," she promised Thorin and dashed out of the door. It shouldn't be too cold around the Mountain after all, not at this time of year, and she _would_ be fast—after all, to simply cross down a few halls to Dori's rooms. She was out the door before Thorin could protest any more.


	5. "I Know Things Now"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billa gets a lesson about Dwarrow culture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday! A bit of a shorter chapter, but more are coming! :) Happy reading, and thanks for the amazing support, you guys are the best!

Billa pounded on Dori's door, desperately hoping that he hadn't heard what Herfríthur had been saying about her wardrobe. She knew that the dwarf was proud to be the royal tailor, and she loved his efforts—even if they were a far bit fancier than she was used to.

"Billa!" Dori flung the door open and eyed her with surprise. Then, his eyes went wide, and his face paled as he tugged her inside impulsively.

"Dori!" she gasped in surprise and shock.

"What are you doing?" Dori demanded in a panicked voice.

"Coming to see you?" Billa replied in confusion.

"Not that!" Dori exclaimed, "what are you doing wearing  _ that _ !" he prodded at her shawl.

"I w-was c-cold!" Billa stammered in her surprise, eyeing Dori nervously. She'd never seen him quite this upset—well, except for when she'd almost drowned, or riddled with Smaug, or been practically trampled in the Battle of Five Armies. Billa frowned at her friend, enough getting off-track, she decided.

"It's a shawl!" Dori yelped.

"How observant," Billa snapped defensively. Behind her, the door opened, and Thorin sprinted in.

"You can't just run off like that!" he glared at Billa.

"Run off! _Run off?_ I was going to visit a friend, that's hardly _running off_!" Billa snapped impatiently, rounding on Thorin.

"But you're pregnant!" Dori exclaimed. "You have to be more careful! You can't be exerting yourself or working yourself up! You have to be careful, or you'll lose the bairn!" Billa blinked at his genuine distress.

"Lose the baby?" Billa frowned, looking back towards Thorin who was also looking suitably concerned considering the nature of the conversation.

"Aye," Dori said, nervously.

"Is it not common amongst hobbits," Thorin interrupted while Dori backed away from the couple.

"Not unless a lass wants to rid herself of the babe," Billa shrugged, but the alarmed expression that crossed both Dwarrow s faces made her freeze. "I mean, if she comes with child at a bad time or before wedlock," she justified, "or there are already too many children." Their eyes, if possible, grew even rounder.

"Too many children?" Thorin croaked.

"Well, yes, it happens, after fifteen children it can become hard. We do eat a lot, and there's not always enough space in a smial," Billa reasoned with a shrug. "Are Dwarrow families not so large? Everyone on the quest has siblings," Billa frowned.

"Not that prosperous, lass," Dori said. A knock sounded on the door, and he walked over in an apparent daze to let the rest of the Company in. Billa found she wasn’t surprised to see them all there, merely wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, and wished she wasn't being scrutinized.

"Are you alright, lass?" Oín demanded, shouldering his way to the front of the group.

"Y-yes," Billa stammered, glancing towards Thorin who was looking at her cautiously. 

"Is that your shawl, Dori was fast!" Ori said, and Billa frowned as they all turned to look at her almost more critically.

"Dori? I made this, it was supposed to a blanket actually, but," she began.

"Oh, good!" Kíli exclaimed, and her frown deepened.

"What's wrong with it?" she glared at the group, all of whom turned to look either at Dori or Thorin.

"She doesn't know?" Balin asked sternly.

"Know what?" Billa demanded crisply.

"Well, it's a shawl," Thorin began.

"Of course it's the bloody shawl!" Billa cursed, snatching the garment off in a fit of annoyance. "It's crochet; it's supposed to have this design! It's intricate and, I'll have you know, I am quite renowned for my skills when it comes to crocheting in the Shire!" Billa glared around the room, challenging anyone else to critique her handiwork. No one said anything. With a sniff of approval, she replaced the garment about her shoulders. As one, the Dwarrow winced and, the satisfaction that Billa had felt melted away. 

"It's not your craft, lassie, but your choice of dress. More specifically, when a Dwarrowdam is expecting, she wears a shawl. Typically, it does have a certain pattern, but as we are not familiar with crochet, it might be mistaken for an expectant shawl. I understand it is no doubt of fine quality but, compared to what our people might be familiar with seeing, it is rather, um, different." Balin offered, and Billa gaped in unabashed confusion.

"You mean that, by wearing this, I am proclaiming to the entire Mountain that I am pregnant?" she gaped.

"Well, it's not technically a shawl that expecting mothers would typically wear, but you have proven time and time again to bend expectations and traditions," Dori hedged. Billa tugged the shawl from her shoulders—again.

"And exactly what would this actual shawl look like?" she demanded. 

"Well, it would still be a shawl, always it is a shawl. For a Durin queen, it would, of course, be blue, with the royal crest interwoven. The key, however, is the inclusion of Mahal's Hammer with a flower from Yavanna because they are our creators. The flowers would, perhaps, be an even more important inclusion in your shawl because they represent your status as a hobbit. Every Dwarrowdam must have those two features because it is said that, although Mahal is our creator, without Yavanna's guidance he never could have made the clay that he shaped into living and breathing flesh." To Billa's faint surprise, it was Glóin who offered the explanation. "Ah, I remember my wife's shawl," he added with a smile that only the mention of his wife or son could evoke.

"She did have a fine one," Dori agreed.

"She made it herself!" Glóin boasted.

"My wife made her's too!" Bombur agreed.

"So, I could make mine," Billa hedged.

"Not as a queen, you couldn't!" Dori responded sharply.

"Ma didn't make hers," Fíli offered. 

"Durins don't make their own shawls." Thorin agreed.

"But you could make it—" Billa looked in Dori's direction.

"I could," he hesitated, and she frowned.

"But?" Billa demanded impatiently.

"It's traditional for Dwarrowdams to make the shawl," Dori hesitated.

“But that awful dwarf, Herfríthur, wanted to make mine and I don’t think he’s a Dwarrowdam,” Billa scowled.

“Yes, well,” Balin shrugged.

“He likely wanted to take advantage of you,” Glóin frowned.t

“How so?” Billa’s gaze narrowed in suspicion as she regarded the dwarf.

“Because it’s not just any Dwarrowdam who makes the shawl, it’s something you do for your kin," Glóin and Bombur exchanged a glance, and then both bowed in unison before Billa.

"It would be an honour if you would allow our wives to make you a shawl. The princess Dís, obviously, is not here yet, but—“ Bombur offered.

"Of course!" Billa leaped at the Dwarrow who readily accepted her enthusiastic embrace. 

* * *

Billa had met both Glóin and Bombur’s wives since they arrived with the first convoy to Erebor. In fact, she had often relied on their knowledge of Dwarrowdam roles in society to guide her through her role as the Consort—well, that had been Balin’s suggestion. Both women were lovely and, at times, it was almost hard to remember what she'd thought of Glóin and Bombur before meeting their wives. However, both were quite busy establishing themselves and their households, so Billa hadn’t seen them nearly as often as she might have liked.

Glóin’s wife, Lí, was warm and friendly, with an innate ability to make you laugh where Glóin could so often become silent and stern. Bjarma, on the other hand, was a Dwarrowdam to match Bombur. She was large and merry with a booming laugh that often echoed across the kitchens. Together, they were rarely seen apart and when Bombur had told Billa that it was food that had brought the two together she hadn't been at all surprised.

"Perfect," Balin proclaimed, and while Billa was subsequently hugged and congratulated once more, the two Dwarrow slipped from the room to fetch their respective wives.


	6. "I Feel Pretty"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billa gets a gift.

After the arrangements for Lí and Bjarma to make her shawl were complete, Billa had foolishly expected the incident to fade into the back of everyone's mind. At Thorin's insistence, she had agreed to take the rest of the week away from her duties, resting. She was also able to force him to accept her own condition: that he too took a break from his work, and if anything needed his direct oversight that he work from their quarters. He had agreed with surprising ease. Then, the other Dwarrow moved around them to ensure that Thorin had no issues lightening his workload. Everything else, they handled from within their private rooms. Their time together was the best part of her new situation. Indeed, when he finally acknowledged that the Mountain wasn’t about to crumble around him, Thorin was able to actually enjoy himself, and Billa almost wished that they could remain like that forever—together without the pressures of running a kingdom. Almost. The downside of her successful break with Thorin was that the Dwarrow were still treating her like she was made of spun glass. The Company made sure to stop in throughout the day, and while Billa loved their visits, she had the distinct impression that she was being kept in seclusion—though no one would admit to it. 

* * *

When the week was over, Billa woke alone in her bed. Thorin had, apparently, been equally anxious to get back to the mountain of work that awaited him—pun intended. Still, the hurt that had filled her the week before was greatly diminished. Thorin was making an effort after all, even if it took her getting pregnant to force him to slow down. Billa dressed and was about to leave the apartment when Li and Bjarma arrived in a flurry. 

Although Billa's stomach was demanding breakfast, she was happy to visit with the two Dwarrowdams who were clearly content with their handwork. _And_ , Billa mused, _with good reason!_ The shawl that they presented her with was of fine make indeed. It was soft and warm, and the embroidery was truly a work of art with fine gold and silver thread and delicate jewels that even Billa had to admit were nice, not gaudy. 

Finally, though, the loud interruption of Billa's stomach led the two Dwarrowdams to bow themselves out of her presence. Billa cast the shawl about herself, noting how pleasantly it accented her outfit and, without a second thought, she exited her room.

Her new seven guards silently fell in around her, protecting her from all sides. Billa had argued against needing a guard and, initially, she had won simply because the Mountain was so severely understaffed. Since Thorin had heard of her pregnancy; however, he had become insistent and no matter how much she protested Billa couldn't shake him from the idea. Of course, he had wanted to give her even more guards, but Billa at least been successful on that point. It was pointless to give her what Thorin considered a "full" guard since technically she had fourteen guards—so that they could work in shifts night and day. All the same, she figured that it couldn't possibly last for very long—she was still going to be in this condition for months yet to come, _and surely, the Dwarrow don’t expect to keep me under lock and key the entire time, right?_ Billa worried. 

As it turned out, they could—and they did. Billa had initially been delusional enough to think that earning her freedom from her rooms was the end of the matter. She had never been so wrong in her life. 

* * *

Billa headed down from the upper royal quarters towards the kitchens. It was a path that she was quite familiar with, but she felt as though today the trip took twice as long. Of course, her guards would hardly allow her to sprint through the Mountain as she might have to soothe her hungry belly, but the pace that they insisted on had Billa grinding her teeth in frustration. Normally she didn't think that she walked _that_ fast, but this was a ceremonial crawl.

As they passed through the other halls; however, Dwarrow stopped working and stared at their retinue—not that Billa could blame them. Still, feeling overly self-conscious already when it came to her guard, she had to force herself not to duck her head or slip her ring on. Thorin surely would be upset though if she up and vanished amid her guards, and she didn't precisely fancy facing another inquisition. 

She was still waiting for the Dwarrow to stop thinking that she had to be coddled for being pregnant—since they seemed to feel that her fainting meant that the pregnancy was taking too much of a toll on her. Still, given the slowness of her progress and the distraction to the Dwarrow perhaps she could speak to Thorin again about reducing the number of her guards—even Thorin didn't have this many given the limited resources of the Mountain, and it was all being silly. _Why do I even need seven guards? Seven, for Yavanna's sake! Ridiculous,_ she scoffed inwardly. 

* * *

Billa felt the stares continue to follow her as she tucked into breakfast, feeling disappointed when Bombur wasn't present in the kitchens. She was later than usual though in coming down and, apparently, he was overseeing a shipment from Dale of fresh groceries. He never trusted anyone else to the task, and certainly, by now the delivery team knew better than to try to sneak anything past him be it a missing onion or a substituted seasoning. 

Billa finished her meal, wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders, and then frowned when she thought she heard a nearby kitchen boy whisper something and bow. Forcing herself to dismiss it, she left the kitchen. She too had work that she'd neglected for the past week. Deciding to try to save time, she took a shortcut, and skip the craziness of passing by several guild fronts over that lined the more circuitous way that she sometimes chose—apparently, it was better for morale to visit with the working Dwarrow and allow them to see her. Given the speed of her retinue taking; however, the longer way would likely mean that they wouldn’t reach her office until noon! 

* * *

Billa worked all day, trying to ignore the way that Dwarrow had stopped and stared. One of them, she thought, had whispered " _Amadel_ " when she passed, but she had no idea what that meant. The infuriating tailor had called her that too, she realized, but she had been so distracted she had forgotten to ask Thorin what it meant. It bothered her, she supposed, not knowing at least what they were saying, but she did her best to ignore it and work instead. She was not even a quarter of her way through the tasks, however, when the door burst open, and Thorin and Balin burst in. 

"Thorin!" Billa looked up startled as he strode towards her and she drew back, unintentionally messing up the signature of the document that she had been going through. "Thorin," she growled, this time in impatience, as she realized her error.

"The shawl," he began insisting, and Billa frowned, glancing behind her to where she had draped the garment in question over the back of her chair.

"What about it?" her frown deepened when he stalked around her chair to snatch at it. "Lí and Bjarma dropped it off this morning, it really is of fine make and quite warm," Billa defended as Thorin held it up, clearly examining it. Then, he gave a disgruntled grunt while Billa shot Balin a pleading glance, as though the wizened dwarf would answer what was going on with her husband.

"It is indeed of fine make, Lassie," Balin acknowledged, and Billa smiled, "but you wore it out and about and Thorin wasn't there," he continued.

"They gave it to me this morning. No one told me I was to wait,” Billa frowned.

"Did you not listen to anything from our other discussion, Billa," Thorin growled.

"Of course, I did! However, I fail to see how that is relevant. I got the right shawl, so now why can't I wear it?" Billa didn't actually remember standing up, but she was on her feet and tapping one of them impatiently as she regarded Thorin. 

"Because only expecting mothers wear them!" Thorin roared impatiently, and Billa frowned again.

"But I am an expecting mother!" she shot back in exasperation.

"Stop it, both of you!" Balin finally interceded, and both Billa and Thorin turned to glare at him. "What he means, Lassie is that by wearing this out in public was akin to you and Thorin making an announcement that you were expecting. The fact that he was not by your side makes our folk uncertain about why you weren't together on such an important occasion." Billa's jaw dropped.

"You didn't tell me _that_!" she rounded on Thorin.

"I just said that!" he returned and she thought she heard Balin groan in defeat.

"Stop!" Balin interjected, moving between the two until they both had to come to a full stop. "It was our fault, Billa, for assuming that you were aware of the shawl's significance, however, now we must decide what to do," Balin turned and fixed Thorin with a pointed stare. Thorin sighed and turned back to Billa.

"Well, what do we do?" Billa turned desperate eyes to Balin.

"Well, I would suggest that you begin with a public outing together, show how much you both still love each other," Balin fixed them with a knowing gaze that had Billa blushing. Of course, during the Quest, they had been in tight quarters, but still, knowing that the whole Company was aware of the beginning of her relationship with Thorin was suitably embarrassing at times.

"Yes," Thorin agreed, shooting Balin a look that made Billa suspect that he had intended to make that same proposal.

"What about the market?" Billa decided to put Thorin out of his misery. 

They had missed last week's market anyways, and she had meant to go and look around at least because it gave her a chance to see what the rest of the Mountain was up to.

Thorin smiled at her in relief, "That would be lovely."


	7. "Knowing Me, Knowing You"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billa and Thorin have a talk about family, and what happened to hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All! So, a bit of a sadder chapter, but I really wanted to explore Billa's family, and what happened to the other Baggins of Bag End. Well, that and she and Thorin are rather overdue for a chat about their own future ;)

Going with Thorin to the market felt oddly like déjà-vu for Billa. When the Dwarrow had first come to the Mountain and Thorin had announced their relationship and her status as the Consort they had gone through the Mountain together. Apparently, this was to be a similar showing. 

Thorin summoned his own ceremonial guard and, combined with Billa's Queen's guard. They created quite the scene. Balin also disappeared for a short while—to give Thorin and Billa a chance to apologize to each other. Then, before she knew it, Billa was surrounded not only by guards, but also the rest of the Company.

"We're only going to the market," she grumbled, to which Fíli and Kíli merely guffawed. 

"Only going to the market," they laughed. If only she had realized what she had agreed to. Unfortunately, she hadn't. 

* * *

Their party departed from the royal quarters, and immediately Dwarrow stopped their activities to stare as they went by. Of course, when members of King Thorin Oakenshield's Company passed by Dwarrow gossiped. When they saw Thorin or even Billa, then they would stop and bow. To see them all together, however, was another matter entirely, especially with the guards. Dwarrow craned their necks to try to catch a glimpse of their Company, and unlike usual, the Company stood back so that Thorin and Billa were on display. 

"Thorin," Billa hissed out of the corner of her mouth. Although this was the official announcement of their pregnancy, she hadn't quite expected this much attention.

"Just smile," he counselled her, also out of the side of his mouth.

"But there are so many of them," Billa protested quietly, while Thorin tightened his grip on her forearm reassuringly.

"I know, but they are all curious. You are their Queen, their hero, and now the mother of their future." Thorin murmured, turning to look at her as he slowed. The whole party also slowed, and for a moment, Billa didn't care that they were both the centre of attention and the cause. 

"I’m pregnant, I know, but is all this pomp and ceremony really just because we’re having a baby?” Logically, Billa understood that children were rare in Dwarrow culture. Still, children were a natural part of family life and so engrained in her expectations that she could hardly process that her simple pregnancy could be this important not only to Thorin and their friends but the whole kingdom.

“Of course, it is!” Thorin replied, forgetting to speak out of the corner of his mouth in his excitement. As more Dwarrow craned their necks to see, Thorin hastily remedied his mistake. “Families in the Shire,”

“Are usually at least eight children, up to twenty or so,” Billa interrupted, and Thorin’s eyes went wide.

“But you,” Thorin began and then stopped.

“My family died during the Fell Winter, Thorin. It was a miracle I survived. I was the oldest child, and I've always been a fighter. We were starving, and a fever came. My youngest siblings didn't stand a chance. Our parents gave up everything to ensure our survival.” Billa found herself admitting. Thorin met her gaze, and she looked away, unwilling for the time being to say anything else. 

She’d always deflected questions about her family before, letting the Dwarrow assume what they wished about her upbringing. It hadn’t crossed her mind that they might have thought that she was an only child. There were many brothers, families, amongst the Company, she had known that families were smaller, but she never anticipated this much fuss over the prospect of a baby.

“When my sister had Fíli, the Blue Mountains feasted for days." Thorin murmured, seeming to sense that she wouldn't say any more on the subject. "When she became pregnant with Kíli so shortly afterward, especially considering the tragedy of Azanulbizar, the feasting lasted for weeks. She had already been married for nigh on a decade. It’s normal for babes to take so long to make an appearance. We haven’t even had the chance to marry properly, and already you are expecting. The Dwarrow see it as a blessing from Mahal. Our future in Erebor is blessed, and we will be successful and prosperous.” Thorin explained quietly, reaching out to cup her cheek as he smiled at her. Billa couldn't help but smile back, feeling the warmth of his pride and basking in it. She had seen her pregnancy as a step forward for them, but admittedly, she hadn't stopped to consider what it might mean for their people as well.

“I see,” she murmured, though her head was spinning. _A blessing from their Maker?_ Billa couldn’t help but place a hand over her womb.

“ _Ghivashel_ ,” Thorin asked softly, placing his hand atop hers.

“I think, if our people judge prosperity by fertility we will be blessed and, perhaps, there ought to be more unions with hobbits.” Billa offered him a sly smile, which he returned without hesitation.

"I think I would like it very much if our union was so blessed,” he admitted.

“Maybe, after we’re finished, we should talk more about our cultures,” Billa suggested almost hesitantly, but he continued to smile warmly at him.

“I think, perhaps, that might be a wonderful idea,” Thorin agreed, and Billa found herself beaming back at him. “Shall we?” Thorin offered her his arm and, happily, Billa wound her arm through his. 

* * *

Usually, Billa would be less than pleased at the public attention that they were garnering, but as she walked at Thorin’s side, she found she cared little. Dwarrow everywhere beamed, bowed, and named her _Amadel_. She smiled and nodded back to them, evoking even more smiles. At her side, Thorin remained protectively attentive. The rest of the Company likewise kept close. 

When they had finished with the Market, Billa led their way on a circuitous route back to their quarters. When Thorin mentioned it quietly, she also agreed to have dinner with the rest of the Company. The meal was raucous, to say the least. Thorin privately promised her that they would have a grand feast for the whole Mountain to celebrate their good fortune, but at present, the meal was only for family. Billa had initially agreed out of obligation, worried that she'd hurt the Company's feelings if she didn't agree, but her friends' high spirits were nothing short of contagious. If anything, it made their festivities at Bag End look downright tame. 

When finally she and Thorin excused themselves, they walked silently back to their rooms. Thorin held Billa's hand gently, not saying anything, but remaining a solid presence. She stepped closer to him, leaning against him. They entered their rooms, and Billa moved away to begin making tea. The conversation that was to come would no doubt be long, and she wouldn't say she was postponing the conversation exactly, but it gave her something to do. The silence persisted as she poured them both steaming cups and set out a seed cake. She nibbled away, somehow still peckish in spite of their recent feast.

"So tell me, _Ghivashel_ , about your family," Thorin finally said. Billa sipped quietly at her tea. 

It had been many months since she'd mourned her family. In fact, since she had joined the Company the Dwarrow had come to fill the void that she'd been so desperately trying to patch while living alone in Bag End. They were, she acknowledged, her family. 

"My mother, Belladonna Baggins, was born a Took. It's known throughout the Shire too that Tooks are wild by hobbit standards. They are more daring; they get into trouble and go on adventures and don't care about what other people think of them. My Ma was wild even for a Took, but all the same when she was a child, she was the apple of my grandfather's eye," the words began tumbling from Billa's lips. 

* * *

It felt like a dam had burst. Billa heard herself talking about her family. She'd longed to be Belladonna, tramping through the countryside, tearing her dresses and tangling her hair. She confessed how she'd begged Belladonna night after night for stories and, as she grew up, how she'd wanted to go on adventures with her Ma. Instead, Belladonna had begun to settle down and had borne another four children. 

Billa had first gotten a younger sister, Donna. Billa recalled the numerous squabbles with her sister. Donna was just over a year younger than Billa, but she had always held Billa in contempt. Growing up together, Billa had preferred to laugh in the face of expectations while Donna adhered to them with a near-religious devotion that made their father, Bungo, beam.

Billa and Bungo had had their disagreements but, privately, Billa thought that she was his favourite. He had hoped that she would have a fair amount of his Baggins respectability; however, she proved to be far more Tookish than he had ever imagined. Still, Bungo had married Belladonna in spite of the numerous other lasses who had vied for his attention, and Billa was nothing if not her mother’s daughter. 

During the day, therefore, he blustered about Billa's improprieties but, at night, when Donna was obediently fast asleep in her bed, Billa was wont to sneak out and curl up in her father's lap. They'd read late into the night, past when even Belladonna would sneak in from her long evening walks. Billa remembered her mother smiling indulgently at the sight of them together. Then, more often than not, she would join them and tell them stories of far off lands and had even taught Billa a little Elvish. 

Those were the golden days that Billa vaguely remembered. For years, it was just the four of them, but when Billa was five, Belladonna had given birth to Bilbo. Donna had been overjoyed at the prospect of having a younger sister. She wanted someone to boss around and dress up. Instead, they got a little brother. Although Donna’s interest quickly waned, Billa had been thrilled. 

She never let Bilbo out of her sight, taking care of her little brother as best as she could and, when he began to crawl, he followed her from room to room. He never grew out of that. He always was at Billa's side, and people used to joke that they were twins born apart. Donna had become even more proper, likely as a result of having two such wild siblings. Belladonna had settled down more to look after the three of them, and Bungo was as happy as ever with his family growing to fill Bag End. 

When Billa was seven, Belladonna had given birth to twin girls, Pansy and Petunia. Donna had been overjoyed and took to the little girls just as strongly as Billa had taken to Bilbo. As a family of seven, they'd been happy, and the twins were seven when the Fell Winter came. Billa, at fourteen, considered herself an adult ready for adventure while Donna was eager to reach her tweens and begin courting. 

The autumn before the Winter was the last time that Billa could remember them being happy. The twins were angelic but so young and, when food became scarce, they were the first to become bony. Donna had sacrificed her own food, just like Belladonna and Bungo to feed the growing twins. Billa had shared hers with Bilbo. Still, they were too young and too far into their growth spurts. They burned through the extra rations and grew lean and hungry. So too did Bilbo although Belladonna and Bungo tried to keep smiling and insisting that life would return to normal. 

Petunia went first. A fever had come, and she was gone less than a week later. Pansy followed her sister, they had always been inseparable, and it was almost better that they stay together in the next life. However, their deaths broke Donna, so when she too caught the fever although it took longer, she eventually succumbed. Bungo never recovered from the loss of his daughters and seeing him so stricken also stole the fight from Belladonna. They did their best, but when the food was gone, they left for the Tookland, hoping to find refuge. 

It was too cold, and in the night, Bilbo had silently succumbed. Billa remembered the bitter bite of the wind and the even colder rush of fear when she woke and realized that Bilbo was also cold. She hadn't been with her sisters, but she screamed when she realized that Bilbo was also gone. Belladonna had rushed over, hugging Billa to her while Bungo simply stared at his only son. They buried Bilbo in the snow, that was all they could do for him. It was too cold for a proper burial. The wolves had attacked not long after that and Billa had fled into the night, the rest of the way to the Thain, her grandfather, while her parents gave their lives to slow the wolves from taking their last child.

* * *

Billa was crying. The tears rolled down her cheeks as she remembered her family and finally mourned their passing as she had not done for years. 

She'd become The Baggins of Bad End that spring, and had resided mostly in the Tookland, becoming responsible for carrying on her family's legacy. She returned to Bag End before her Coming of Age, pleading with her grandfather to be emancipated. He'd agreed, and she'd lived there, burying her grief in routine and respectability until Gandalf arrived.

"I never knew," Thorin was kneeling in front of her, holding her hands in his. Billa focused on him and saw that he too had tears in his eyes. "Forgive me, _Ghivashel_ , I've been unspeakably selfish," he whispered. She reached out and hugged him.

"Just don't leave me?" she whispered.

"I promise, you'll never be alone again, not while I still draw breath," he replied and gently kissed her temple as he held her.

“I want a big family,” she whispered and felt him smile.

“I do too,” he agreed.


	8. "Rewrite the Stars"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this little story :) Here's the last chapter, though I believe I may have a formal wedding to write later. In the meanwhile, keep your eye out for (hopefully) an update on "Raven" in a few weeks after I get home from vacation, and a few other one-shots featuring Bilbo and Thorin. Happy reading!

Billa knew that there were still many challenges to come. Merely discovering that they were pregnant was only one of their many challenges. From marriage rituals to birthdays, Dwarrow and hobbit traditions differed, but Thorin stubbornly insisted that they respect both sets of traditions. In fact, after their talk, he began asking her almost too often for more customs. He’d known that they had different backgrounds, but the shock that he didn’t even know about her family had hit him hard.

Eventually, Billa repeated her story to the rest of the Company—Thorin sitting at her side the whole time. She hated to re-live it, but even as she spoke and admitted her loss, she felt a new sense of peace. They were all horrified to learn she wasn’t actually an only child. In fact, for several months, she had to reassure them that they hadn’t brought more hardship upon her—they had saved her. 

In the spring, Thorin ordered that an emissary be sent to the Shire. He declared that any hobbits who so wished were welcome to relocate to Erebor whether it was a temporary visit or a more permanent relocation. Predictably few agreed at first and, when they arrived, they were all Tooks. 

As the years passed, however, the number of Dwobbits grew, and a small colony that formed at the base of the Mountain. Under the hobbits' care, the crops around the Mountain flourished. Inside the Mountain, the returned Dwarrow of Erebor likewise prospered. 

Billa and Thorin welcomed Belladonna in the summer, Dís arriving just before the birth of her niece. Billa and Thorin were officially married after the birth of their daughter, and Billa was crowned Queen, though many of the first Dwarrow still accidentally called her Consort—assuming they didn't outright address her as _Amadel_. 

That second sobriquet stuck, and with good reason. While the Dwarrow rejoiced at Belladonna's birth, Bard sent gifts from Dale, and even Thranduil sent an emissary with a present for the princess—all being familiar with the low birthrates of Dwarrow. To everyone’s surprise; however, she was far from the last. The next spring, Frérin joined Belladonna, and the year after that Bilbo and Frodo were born. The Dwarrow had never had so many births in the royal family—let alone within the first decade. 

The King and Queen were not the only blissfully happy couple either. Shortly after Belladonna’s birth, Dwalin and Ori had announced their courtship—Billa having accidentally stumbled across them in the library. That time she finally realized what made Ori’s cheeks look so flushed. Meanwhile, Kíli and Tauriel eventually welcomed a baby boy, Víli—who went a long way to helping his mother and the other Dwarrow to accept the red-haired Elvin warrior. Before the twins’ birth, Fíli also settled down with his own dwarf.

* * *

Many years later, Billa would reflect that though her first family had been cruelly torn away from her, she had gained a second. The Company always stayed close, welcoming children together and, over the years, mourning each other's passing as one family. When Billa's time came, she went happily to the next life, surrounded by her family, including Thorin and all of their children.

He joined her less than a decade later, and Mahal made an exception and allowed them to be together in his halls forevermore. If some drama happened before she died to do with a Ring and a Dark Lord, well, Billa was never one for a quiet life and, in the end, everything was alright anyway.

* * *

_fin._


End file.
